(Few years ago)
The sparse, cold training room echoed with the ragged breaths of a small figure. Six-year-old Zack, a tiny silhouette against the harsh light, clung to a sword far too large for his trembling hands. Tears streamed down his face, leaving clean trails through the grime and dried blood that stained every visible inch of his small body. He swayed precariously, barely able to stand, as he faced his father.
Bell, a looming, implacable presence, regarded his son with eyes devoid of warmth. His voice, hard as flint, cut through the child's silent sobs. "One of your first lessons is to learn how to fight while you're weak and tired, Zack. Your enemies wouldn't wait for you to recover, so stop standing around and attack!"
Zack's small frame shook with exhaustion and despair. "But, Dad," he whimpered, his voice cracking, "I haven't slept or eaten in days. I... I can't move."
Bell's response was immediate and brutal. With a swift, powerful kick, he sent Zack sprawling onto the cold, unforgiving ground. The boy landed with a painful thud, his sword clattering away from his grasp. "And you wouldn't," Bell stated, his voice a low, dangerous growl, "until you can land an attack on me. Now get up! Pick up that sword and show me what you've got! You have to be the strongest! The Red Katana must be mine, do you hear me?"
Zack whimpered again, his small body protesting with every fiber, but driven by an ingrained, terrifying fear, he struggled to obey. He pushed himself up, every muscle screaming, his little hands scrabbling for the hilt of the sword. With a Herculean effort for a child his age, he lifted the heavy blade, his small legs wobbling, and charged at his father, a tiny, desperate, broken thing.
(Years Later - To the Present)
The present was a maelstrom of steel and raw power. Zack and Rider fought with everything they had, both on the attack, with virtually no defense, allowing themselves to be sliced and grazed by one another. It was no longer a display of elegant swordsmanship but a desperate, brutal test of endurance and pure will. Every eye in the arena watched in stunned silence, mesmerized by the sheer ferocity of the exchange.
From the contenders' area, Aingo's voice, usually calm and composed, held a rare note of genuine awe. "I don't normally give people credit out loud, but that Zack guy is incredible. Not only did he come out of a fight with the teacher of Dextin, and without any treatment went into a fight with an Elite Soldier, and on top of that, he's immediately standing toe-to-toe with Rider."
Rebel scoffed, though his eyes were wide with unwilling respect. "I can handle him. That bastard doesn't have my skill," he grumbled, ever the contrarian.
Valen, sitting beside him, muttered under his breath, barely above a whisper, "And that's coming from a guy who lost to Enshou."
But Rebel, with his heightened senses, still heard it. He spun around, his face contorted in anger. "You got something to say, asshole?! I dare you!" he snarled, ready to leap at Valen.
Meanwhile, Tusk, sitting next to Aingo, his gaze fixed on the fight, spoke with a thoughtful frown. "On a normal basis, if anyone were to predict who would win this fight, the win would go to Rider. But with the way things are going, Zack has them running for their money. That endurance... whatever training that guy got to be like this must be very tough." Tusk glanced at Aingo, who was clenching his fist tighter, his expression grim as he continued watching the brutal exchange, the memories of his own generation's struggles perhaps flashing through his mind.
Back in the blood-and-sweat-soaked tournament ring, Zack and Rider continued their furious dance. Rider felt a sudden, sharp strain ripple through his entire body. His breath hitched. This was bad. He immediately kicked Zack off, creating distance between them. His eyes, though weary, remained locked on Zack. (This is bad. I'm running out of steam, and if that happens, it would be an even match between me and him. I'm trying to avoid that at any means necessary. I have to end this quick.)
Zack, sensing Rider's momentary retreat, smiled, a chilling, almost predatory expression. His voice, though still rough, carried a biting edge. "You think because your dad is the all-loving hero, that's why you're destined for the Red Katana? You can't even begin to think about what I've been through for this. One thing I despise are people that think they're better than people who work the shit out of themselves to be here, simply because they're 'destined.'"
Rider took two slow steps forward, closing the distance, his gaze unwavering as he stared directly into Zack's eyes. His voice was low, firm, cutting through Zack's contempt. "You think I'm chasing destiny? Now let me ask you this: Do you know how many years I've trained for this? I don't even think I'm worthy, but yet I kept on going for everyone that has placed their hope on me. I wouldn't deny that I had the privilege to skip the tournament all the way to the finals while you had to go through it. But either way, even if I was in the tournament, you still wouldn't have kept me down."
Zack's smirk vanished, replaced by a deep frown, his eyes blazing with renewed intensity. "Let's settle it then," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "You versus me. Give me your strongest attack right now, and I'll show you mine. You ready?" He held his twin blades high, crossing them in an X-formation, a clear challenge.
Rider's lips curved into a faint smirk, a mirror of Zack's earlier confidence. He maintained his fighting stance, his katana held steady. "When you are."
The crowd watched in breathless shock. The realization that these two warriors were about to unleash their absolute strongest attacks in a single, decisive blow sent a ripple of electric anticipation through the entire stadium. Every person was on the absolute edge of their seat, desperate not to miss a second of this unprecedented finale.
Rider and Zack charged at each other, their movements blindingly fast, a surge of raw, focused power. Rider lifted his katana high above his head, the blade glinting. "Rider Slash! Blade Cutter!" he declared, bringing the sword down in a powerful, descending arc aimed directly at Zack.
Meanwhile, Zack, with a chillingly precise counter, formed an 'X' with his twin blades, crossing them defensively. He leaped slightly, then spun, a blurring vortex of steel, right through Rider's attack. The impact was deafening, a sickening CRACK! of metal on metal, followed by a violent expulsion of air and the spray of blood. Both combatants landed on opposite sides of the ring, their bodies stiff, motionless, in a terrifying tableau.
Silence descended upon the arena, thick and suffocating. Every eye was glued to the two figures, waiting to see who would fall first, who would crumple under the weight of the last, desperate exchange.
Then, suddenly, Zack collapsed onto one knee, his chest heaving, a thin trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth. A collective murmur of disappointment rippled through the crowd, many believing he had failed, that this was the end. But then, to their utter bewilderment, they saw it: a faint, almost triumphant smile slowly spreading across Zack's bloodied face. Immediately, their gaze snapped back to Rider.
Rider stood motionless, his arm still extended from his last attack. But his blade... his katana was totally, irrevocably broken, shattered just above the hilt. The legendary "Rider Slash" had been countered with a force that had destroyed his weapon.
Aingo, watching from the contenders' area, gasped, his eyes wide with profound shock. "This is bad!" Valen exclaimed, his voice tight with concern. "How would Rider fight him now with no blade?!" Kael, however, let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. "I wouldn't lie... this is amusing," he chuckled, despite the gravity of the situation.
Back in the tournament ring, Rider looked down at his broken katana, the shattered remains a cruel mockery of his power. With a sigh of resignation, he tossed the ruined blade aside. As he turned back towards Zack, expecting the decisive final blow, Zack did something completely unexpected.
With a sudden, powerful flick of his wrist, Zack threw one of his own twin katanas towards Rider. The sword spun end-over-end, landing with a soft thud at Rider's feet. "Take it now," Zack said, his voice hoarse but clear, a predatory glint in his eyes. "We aren't done yet."
Rider stared at the katana on the ground in shock, utterly bewildered. The entire arena was alight with confused murmurs, everyone wondering why Zack had given Rider his katana instead of simply ending the match.